Guidance
by Kyron
Summary: 2007 Movie.  Pairings:  IronhidexJazz, IronhidexJazzxBumblebee, JazzxBumblebee, IronhidexRatchet.  Ironhide reflects on a time before Mission City.  It was also a time before there was Jazz and Bumblebee.  Please, heed the rating.


**Guidance**

Mission City will forever be burned into my processor. Not because we nearly destroyed the place, not because we lost the Allspark, not even because we managed to save this planet's primary inhabitants from being overrun by their own technology. No, this battle's place is reserved simply because we lost one of our own to a brutal death. Each of us lost something when we lost Jazz. Prime had lost his second; Ratchet, his 'partner in crime' so to speak; Bumblebee lost his beloved Companion, a pain I'd not wish on any mech. Me? I, like everyone else, lost a great friend. I recall looking at the yellow mech and seeing him look back, a look of quiet understanding that barely suppressed the flood of grief that boiled just below the surface. You see, before there was Bumblebee and Jazz, there had been the start of Jazz and myself.

It had been short lived, really. Nothing more than a 'means to an end'. While that might be a cruel way to put it, it was essentially the truth. I won't say it was innocent because it wasn't. I should never have even considered it but I did. Jazz had been one of recruit liaisons/instructors. Anything the new recruits needed went through him and then on up the chain if Jazz couldn't obtain it himself. He took damn good care of each and every one of them too. He also always got what he wanted, even if he had to tell the entire command chain to 'slag off and go swim in a smelting pool' to get it. During one of his 'requisition visits' that normally consisted of him demanding, quite loudly, what his troops needed, he nearly blew his cool. I've seen that it's a difficult task to get the calm mech to blow up about anything. But that day, he'd been pushed just past his limit. Jazz showed up in my quarters, asking me to 'blow off some steam' and spar with him. An easy request to fill, since, while adapt at most fighting skills, his hand-to-hand combat was lacking. We'd entered the empty training chamber and he immediately attacked. While Jazz lacks mass compared to the majority of us, he makes up for it in gusto.

His attacks were furious, keeping me on the defensive, trying temporary holds to slow him down. He'd kept fighting through them, forcing me to release him as he launched a fresh attack. It seemed to take me forever to finally lock both arms to his sides by grabbing him from behind. Once he'd stopped, I still didn't let him go. He was wearing himself out far too quickly and I thought it best if he slowed the pace for a little while. I saw the tremors pass over his plating and I shifted a bit, thinking I'd managed to hurt him somehow. I'd not, however, expected the rather wanton whine that emitted from his vocal processor. My own frame trembled at the sound. Another whine, turned moan. I activated my vocalizer to ask if he was alright. He didn't bother waiting for me to get a syllable out. Jazz turned in my grip with a grunt and forced me to back against the nearest wall, utilizing every ounce of force his frame could muster to do it. His hands moved frantically and clumsily, seeming to be out of his control. The look on his face showed that he 'wasn't entirely present', his systems operating on basic programming. My own systems had sped up inadvertently. He wasn't going to last long and the more demanding his movements became, the more I realized I wasn't going to either. However, a few well placed touches of my own and his highly over keyed systems shorted, collapsing him against me with a groan. He came back to himself quickly, pushing away from me with a tired air. He looked at me, face apologetic and somewhat fearful. I released him, trying to relay that there would be no repercussions for his actions. He seemed to take the understanding easily enough and nodded once before leaving. I stayed behind several breems, trying to get a hold on myself before leaving the training room and heading for the med bay. Our rendezvous occurred several times after that, each hidden and short lived, never complete. And each one had me searching for a particular lanky medic to help me deal with the unfinished aftermath. I do, however, remember him being exceedingly calm about my escapades with a younger instructor. He seemed to realize that it was only a 'convenience' thing and that I always came back to him every time. It wasn't that I didn't care about Jazz, far from it, just that he and I had nothing going for us as a pair.

Eventually, a new batch of recruits passed through the corridors, one of which seemed to catch the young trainer's optics quite rapidly. Our trysts became fewer and fewer until they seemed to have stopped completely. It had been brewing for a while now and it was easy to tell. All one had to do was watch how the two acted around each other and it was obvious. I had no reason to believe that what Jazz and I shared was in any way permanent. We were, after all, far too different. It had been enough, though, to get us both through. So, when I walked into the supply closet and found them entwined with one another, I wasn't upset. Part of me thought that it was about time the two stopped skirting around each other, the other part…

I blame that second part for the actions that took over me then. Jazz and I had never completed an uplink, only what a human might call "foreplay". It was frustrating to me for obvious reasons, however, it had also been my decision. Jazz was extremely adapt and quick to learn any task set to him, but to watch him behave so clumsily around the younger mech was almost far too entertaining. Once I'd opened the door and he spotted me, he froze. Even the younger Bumblebee seemed to tense. But neither let go of the other, bodies still entwined. I took stock of the situation a moment before entering the closet and closing the door back behind me. They both watched every move I made with a some-what fearful air. I stepped behind Jazz, taking one of his wrists in each of my hands, and started guiding his movements over the other mechs plating. He trembled in my touch, arms tense only until he figured out my game. I could hear the scout's systems speed up, intakes hitching. His optics glanced from his partner to me, gaze intensely curious. There was also a deep placed longing that showed on his countenance. It was so strong that it made me want to delve into both and ensure they overloaded into shutdown. I had to keep telling myself that this wasn't for me, that I wanted to teach them that there are things beyond this war, that they don't have to be alone. And it was true. But, another truth of the matter was, at that moment, I wanted them both.

Jazz's hands started moving again of their own accord and I released them, instead tracing my own hands up his arms and to the shoulders. He shuddered and groaned as I delicately passed a sensitive spot in his plating. The younger one's optics watched my movements, learning where to touch by the reactions that his partner gave. His own frame trembled only slightly as he grew bolder, letting agile fingers dip into crevices in Jazz's frame, eliciting numerous pleasure-induced sounds from the shorter mech. There were several key spots, I noted, that Bumblebee had passed up. Spots that could have Jazz whimpering for him in no time flat. I let my hands drag across Jazz's frame, crossing to Bumblebee's shoulders, tapping my fingers across his form. The young mech froze, optics watching me from the side as I ghosted my hands down his arms as gently as I could, before grasping his wrists. I wasn't surprised he was wary of me. I was, after all, one of their close combat instructors and wasn't known for taking it easy on the students. But, he realized quite quickly that his worry was unwarranted as Jazz whimpered longingly, the pressure of his hands on Bumblebee's frame increasing. I started guiding Bee's hands then, getting him to touch places I knew were highly sensitive. Within mere moments, Jazz was a whimpering, withering mass, clinging tightly to his partners frame. Like Jazz, Bumblebee's hands began to wander on their own, confidently drifting across the metal before them, learning where, when and how to draw the most reaction from his partner. The smaller of the two bots was hardly idle, hands wandered up and down Bumblebee's sides, clawed fingers scratching at the metal with a gentle pressure, causing the mech to arch into him with a keening cry of his own.

My hands still rested on Bumblebee's arms as the mech reached around, grasping at Jazz's back, fingers going behind the shield that the smaller mech kept stored there. I let my hands fall away as Jazz buried his face in his partner's neck, muffling the moan that managed to wring itself away from him. I stepped back then, knowing neither one required my guidance any further. However, I couldn't leave. My gaze stayed transfixed on the two tangled mechs, watching as Bumblebee nuzzled Jazz's cheek. His affection was promptly returned in the same manner. I knew that neither could last much longer. Being as young and inexperienced as they were, a complete linkup couldn't happen. It didn't matter now. Instinct was driving them as they placed their foreheads together, a small spark between the touching metals betraying how far gone they already were. It was an awkward linkup, both mechs hands began fumbling again as the mental stimulus began on its own. I backed further from them, finding myself against the door, unable to cease watching as they finished each other while groaning and clasping at frames. Finally, both sank to the floor, neither releasing the other. I took the moment to slip out of the room quietly, dropping a key card for them on the floor as I left and ensuring that the door resealed. I barely remember my walk to Ratchet's quarters after that. Once I had explained the situation in the storage closet to him, letting him realize that the trysts would be no more, he relaxed. I hadn't known he'd been nervous about the situation as he'd never said anything . As I went to inquire about it, I found myself backed into another wall, Ratchet's body covering mine with every surface he could get a hold of. He made sure I remembered exactly where I belonged.

That had been the last time I had ever touched Jazz in any manner other than as a friend. He had never been mine to begin with so there was no shame, no remorse, and no regrets. Once Bumblebee had stepped into the picture, he was gone, and I was happy for him. Those two are like two halves of one being. It was obvious that one was meant for the other and that nothing would ever be able to alter that. And I, certainly, was not going to stand in their way, only point them in the right direction.


End file.
